drama - bare bones

Are STRONG ARCS and IDENTIFIABLE CHARACTERS.

That is to say strong character arcs. The arc is the trade name for the journey of discovery that the fictional character goes on within the confines of the film, book or TV show. For example Flash Gordon starts off on planet earth an American football player and he ends the film “saviour of the universe”. Not a bad arc.

Stringer Bell in The Wire starts off as an enforcer for a murderous drug gang. In the final scenes before his death by shooting he desperately seeks legitimacy by advocating non-violence and pursuing property deals.

Andy Dufresne, the Tim Robbins character in The Shawshank Redemption, starts off as an ingénue lost in the prison system; he learns to defy it; finally he saves lifer and best friend Red from being destroyed by the system.

A drama must have at least one character with at least one attribute that reflects the viewers’ own.

· Have people the audience can identify with

What attributes they are is harder to say, and this is very much where the difficulty in writing lies. Times change, and it is a very rare drama that remains timeless. But it really helps to show your heroes wart and all. None of us is perfect. Imperfections in heroes make them easier to warm to. Many film heroes have an obvious weakness. Comic strip examples are a fear of snakes (Indiana Jones) or Kryptonite (Superman) Wounding a character early on is excellent story telling. (Misery, Reservoir Dogs, L.A. Confidential, Chinatown). Wounding their pride (Pulp Fiction) will also work.

Our intelligence, our urge to reproduceand our desire to fit in with our peers are among the basic things that define the human condition. I am sure there are many others too. Address these and you have successful fiction.

Exhibit A – Intelligence

We always ask “Why?” Chimpanzees by and large don’t. So, what is the answer to life, the universe and everything? In Douglas Adam’s “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy” the answer was famously delivered in comic minutiae: 42. The drama addressed the very human search for an answer head on. The question was explicitly the central narrative. For good measure events were placed in the cosmos itself.

· Questions are good

Any narrative that involves the act of questioning becomes more interesting . This explains the popularity of crime, detective and legal drama. Incidentally, it is not necessary to deliver the answers, as ignorance is another part of the human condition that shall remain unchanged. Hamlet is so good, partly, due to the main character’s incessant questioning of the universe, but he dies before any religious truths are realised.

A cousin of the question drama is sci-fi. Narratives that place our species out there, the cosmos, or bring the cosmos to our own blue planet, highlight humankind’s search of the stars. One of the first pieces of celluloid ever stitched together portrayed the arrival of man on the (comically unconvincing) moon, Le Voyage Dans La Lune in 1902. It wasn’t long before aliens landed here, on film at least, to mirror the logic.

· Play with the format

The drama audience is aware that what it is reading/watching is an exercise dreamt up by a fellow earthling. It may have seen a few dramas before. It may have seen many. In the case of the western world, it may have been watching 16 hours of TV a week all of its life. In which case, take the trouble to tell the story in an interesting way.

The audience will enjoy seeing the same narrative nuts and bolts, but in a different order, almost as if story-telling were itself a meccano set. It may even enjoy seeing new nuts and bolts all together. In the US drama Lost, the creators initially intercut the present with the past in equal measure, a pleasing juxtaposition that kept the narrative unpredictable and exciting. Later they intercut it with the future. Finally and most mind-blowingly they intercut it with the “what might have been”.

Exhibit B – Sex

Like all other life forms on Earth, humans need to reproduce. This of course gives us the eternal search, the search for love. A character could be the smuggest, evilest, most detestable creature ever, yet a desire to find the perfect match would redeem him/her, making her more tolerable. Such is the redemptive power of love in the audience’s mind.

In action films the softening benefits of a love match are somewhat cynically utilised, resulting in tokenism. Die Hard is essentially a boys shoot ‘em up occasionally interrupted by Holly Genarro, John Mclane’s estranged wife. Despite not dominating a lot of screen time, Holly and John’s relationship is a primary driver for the narrative, and illustrates a drama truism:

· The Boy Gets The Girl.

Or these days the boy gets the boy. Or the girl gets the girl. But you get the picture. The ending of the courtship phase, (given an ironic twist in Die Hard) is the ideal place to end a narrative and is the cinematic equivalent of 2 + 2 = 4.

The inner workings of love’s courtship make for interesting psychological territory. Love’s grip results in such heat and muddled thinking that the characters combust with either comedic or tragic results (The Birdcage or Betty Blue).

· Play with expected norms

Traditional assumptions about a woman’s role or indeed a man’s role in a courtship, and on a wider level society itself, can and ought to be played with in effective drama. Kate, the female hero in Lost, is so fascinating because it is still original in 2011 to have a woman play such a dominant role in choosing her mate (in animalistic terms) or her career (as a professional thief). The dramatists cannot help subvert the audience’s expectation one more time by eventually turning Kate into a fiercely protective Mother.

Exhibit C – The Group

Humans are a social animal. It is endlessly fascinating when drama creators turn their focus to how social groups work. The basic social unit, the family, will always be first in the battle for ground. Other units such as the platoon, the crime gang, the workplace or even the stranded group of survivors (Lost again) have made good alternative studies. How we support, undermine, rise and fall within these groups is the essence of drama. A great hero will exhibit the virtues of the age, be it physical strength and mental bravery, as in Beowulf, the serialised drama for Anglo-Saxons in 873, or the virtues of greed and ruthlessness of Gordon Gecko in Wall Street, 1987. English director Mike Leigh has built a career observing the quirks within a typical English family.

One of the most pleasing side effects of being an intelligent, social animal is laughter. This surreal noise escapes our mouths whenever another of the group has bumped into a lamppost or tucked their dress into their knickers. Or in my four year old son’s example, whenever I pretend to punch him in the face.

What is humour (perhaps I’m not the best to answer this)? Who knows? I guess it’s a signal that exhibit a) intelligence has swung into action thus alleviating the pressure on exhibit c) the group. Diffusing a threat isn’t exactly instant box office otherwise we’d all be laughing at bomb disposal work, which as we all know is the domain of Oscar-winning action movies. But travel down the line of this logic and we arrive at: Something strongly appears as a threat but using some nouse I can tell that the group was never threatened. Thus Bill Hicks can stand on stage and let rip in all his glory, tearing great swathes out of our own hypocrisy and pouring vitriol on society as a whole. But hey, it’s only words and anyway he’s a fat man in a suit, what harm can he do? If he had African Mercenaries it would be Not Funny.

Harpo Marx kicks the large man selling peanuts in the pants repeatedly. His brother steals the nuts. The man doesn’t react violently, despite looking so cross. I’d go so far as to say without this unsung fall guy this scene would have been a flop. But watch Duck Soup. Even in 2011 it’s funny. The man is subjected to a repeat assault by the deranged two. It is funny – as long as the big man keeps his cool. Funny because he is big and they small, and with each repetition funnier, as it reinforces the big man’s non-violence. Speaking of non-violent big men: Hurley from Lost anyone?

· Non-violence is the root of humour

This can include quite graphic, yet still simulated violence, perhaps never bettered than in the scene in Liar Liar where Jim Carrey beats himself up in the courthouse restroom.

Of course violence is just one of many examples of society breaking down. Societal expectations are really quite strict when you think about it. These are manners. Those that break them can often make us laugh.

Word-play makes us laugh. Our mirth is a sign that the grey matter has yet again creaked into action, a signal the group is to pick up. We emit our strange braying noise to advertise our perceived intelligence to the other members of the troop, with all the accompanying benefits that brings (see exhibit b). We are “programmed” to compete with our peers.

This desire to rise like cream to the top of our social pile leads us to another vital human urge and dramatic tool:

· Malevolent ambition makes for interesting villains

We are instinctively wary of those who seek to rule over us without our consent. In ideal circumstances The Group will choose its own natural leader. For another to forcefully lead us creates a deep sense of injustice.

The ambition to rule is fascinating. It is as ruthless as it can be horrifying. Shakespeare was the master at this sort of dramatic writing, as his historical tragedies testify, and he will probably never be out-done. In Lost, John Locke’s ambition to rule the group is captivating drama.

On the flip side of the ambition coin is adversity. This is the name for a legitimate ambition held by the central players. A desire to rid a skyscraper of terrorists (Die Hard) is something we can all root for.

· Overcoming adversity is compelling

Clearly defined adversity is at the root of successful drama because watching it overcome is so satisfying for the audience. The simplest challenges, portrayed effectively, makes for hypnotic viewing. Some that popped up in 2010:

To overcome a stutter (The King’s Speech)

To escape a boulder (127 hours)

To find a new home (Toy Story 3)

In Shakespeare’s case, he was interested in kings and their kingdoms, not toys. His tragedies invoke a usurpation of Natural Law, and the final Act sees the restoration of Natural Order (Macbeth, Hamlet). This is overcoming adversity on a grand scale. Modern day dramatists invoke this Elizabethan device surprisingly frequently. (28 Days Later, Star Wars, Independence Day)

· Restore Natural Order

Exhibit D – Cheap Tricks

Because they utilize the way we are hard-wired.

· Tell us something we don’t know

We are programmed to learn. When Jack in Lost starts to save lives using his medical knowledge, subconsciously we can’t tear ourselves away, as this new knowledge might somehow be needed for the future. Dramas manipulate this space between the public and specialists all the time, CSI being a good example. Alone it will not work, but it makes for a powerful ingredient in successful drama. We cannot shed the learning gene.

· Keep ‘em hanging

When done properly, drama fools the brain into thinking events are in fact real. Over time our memories blur between actual and pretend. If a story is only half told to us, our brain enters into a state of expectation. It needs resolution in a quite primal way that can only be likened to a man in a desert needing a drink.

What would be the point in finishing the story? Then the audience would not come back. Our very own Mr Dickens was the first to come to this realisation, when he started publishing his novels as monthly editions in the London Gazette. Public appetite was huge both here and the USA, and he was a celebrity in an age before celebrities existed. An analysis of his Pickwick Papers or Great Expectations reveals he quickly mastered the cliff-hanger.

Every self-respecting serial since uses the technique.

· Stimulate the adrenal gland

By making it exciting.

The so-called “Three Fs”, fight, flight or frolic, are a response hard-wired within us. When they activate, we feel exhilarated. Back in the day, a sabre-toothed tiger jumped us as we took water by the mud-hole. TIGER! RUN! Fast forward eleven thousand years. We are no longer purely hunter/gatherers and the tigers have gone. But the primordial response has had no time to genetically disappear. This explains the popularity of horror films.

John Woo’s extended action scenes in Mission Impossible Two are nothing short of an experiment in adrenalin stimulation. Tom Cruise hangs by his fingernails in the opening scene, free-climbing, mere millimetres from death. The cliff-hanger has opened the film. Every scene from then on is tapped for its adrenal properties.

Finally, two tricks that defy simple explanation:

· The music always tells the truth.

· The weather always tells the truth.

That is to say, they set the appropriate mood for events – without exception. In some cases, for example Ennio Morricone’s scores for Sergio Leone’s Westerns, the music can tell the story.

When the black smoke appears in Lost we’re fascinated because to our subconscious it represents a sabre tooth tiger. This was a relatively cheap stunt by Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse, the creators of the show. But I can’t help admiring the way they mined every possible dramatic element to further the popularity of their show.

So, to summarise: